Secret Garden
by Octavia Kendall
Summary: Scattering petals down the road without an end, Left on the battleground for one I called my friend. Maybe he loved me as he took me by the hand, And tried to understand... (NorIce)
1. Chapter 1

**He said, "Oh, Mary, contrary, how does your garden grow?**

Norway sat up. Another day meant another flower, if he knew what he was thinking at all. For years, the "flower collection" had been blooming- taking seeds from different plants and flowers he had been finding and planting them created it- and he wanted to keep it growing.

Okay, bad joke.

But still, Norway wanted nothing more than for the gardens to expand and be made up of more and more beautiful flowers. But he knew there were some he wanted to get rid of.

The sad part was, he couldn't.

He would never be able to.

 **"Come with me, and you'll be the seventh maid in a row,"**

Iceland woke up in the morning. The room was cold and freezing; Denmark must've taken 'Iceland' a bit too literally and changed the air settings. It almost made him want to chuckle. They always got the name wrong.

Greenland was cold. Iceland was warm.

He knew an American who knew that- a fourth grade student, in fact. It pleased him, and he praised the girl, then going on his way.

He opened the window and looked out of it. Flowers upon flowers upon flowers. Small sections of them, big and small and all different. He didn't even know the neighbors, and yet he praised them mentally for giving him something amazing to look at.

Maybe he would meet them one day.


	2. Chapter 2

**My answer, a whisper, soft as he lowered his head,**

Iceland stepped out, his book bag slung across his back in an unusual manner. The right strap was just barely keeping the book bag on his shoulder, while the rest of it was simply dangling in midair. It was a method; albeit, a strange one.

"Bye, Mathias! I'm going to school now!" Iceland shouted.

Denmark leaned out of the doorway. "See you this afternoon, Emil! Have a great day!"

Iceland smiled and walked away, not wanting to ruin the moment.

 **"You're too late, I'm afraid. This flower's already dead."**

He froze. Not literally, but you get the picture.

He looked over. The house with the beautiful garden... there was a boy coming out of it. He looked about Iceland's age. Maybe they went to the same school?

"Hello," Iceland said, doing a small wave. "I'm Emil Steilsson. You?"

The boy in front of him didn't answer; he screamed, pulled his hood over as much of his head as possible, and covered his face with his hands. He ran off. As he looked over toward the house where the slightly taller boy came from, he saw a man with short blond hair and a fierce look in his eye peek out the window, shoot a middle finger at Iceland, and close the curtains.

 _What the hell..._ was all Iceland could think.


	3. Chapter 3

**Resetting as I was, with blossoms in full bloom,**

Iceland stepped off the school bus and out onto the street. He still had to walk half a mile to get home, but at least he was closer.

He started walking towards his house, but the entire time, he was getting the feeling like he was being watched, as if there were something behind him. After the half-mile of walking, Iceland was finally in front of his house when he heard footsteps.

He looked over and saw the boy from that morning step out from behind him and go to his house. The man in the window (also from that same morning) reached out, grabbed his shoulders, and dragged him inside. Iceland paused before slowly walking over to the house before seeing Denmark walk out of his.

"Come on, Emil," he shouted, gesturing for Iceland to follow.

Iceland hesitated before running towards him.

 **Never a chance to pause, with magic to consume.**

Denmark knocked on the door of the other house. He and Iceland stood on the doorstep for about a minute, waiting for an answer. Just as Denmark was about to knock again, the door opened. Iceland recognized the answerer as the man in the window.

Denmark stuck out a hand. "Mathias Kølher; Denmark."

The man in the window shook hands with him. "Berwald Oxenstierna; Sweden." He took a few steps to the side to invite Denmark and Iceland inside. "Come, come," he said, gesturing for them to enter.

They had only taken a few steps in when Sweden took of his coat and shouted, "Timo, put the kettle on! We have company!"

Another, slightly younger man poked his head out of a doorway. He smiled, stepped out to give Iceland and Denmark a full-body look at him, and he closed the door behind him.

He walked over to Iceland and Denmark. He shook Denmark's hand first. "Timo Väinämöinen; Finland."

"Mathias Køhler; Denmark."

Finland shook Iceland's hand. "Timo Väinämöinen; Finland.", he repeated.

"Emil Steilsson; Iceland," he introduced himself.

Iceland heard a voice whisper in his ear. "Lukas Bondevik; Norway."

Iceland raised his head up a little. "Norway?" he whispered to himself.

"Strong or mild?" he heard Finland ask.

"Strong," he heard Denmark answer.

As they listened to the older men talk, the only thing Iceland could think was:

 _Who's Norway?_


	4. Chapter 4

**A shadow walked behind me, offering his hand,**

Iceland felt something touch his hand. He looked down. It was another hand, but it didn't belong to Denmark. It was too small for it to be Denmark's.

"Come on," that same voice that introduced itself as Norway commanded.

Iceland stood up and started to walk away.

"Where are you going?!" Sweden shouted, startling everyone else in the room.

Iceland thought for a second. Maybe there was a reason that Norway was hiding from everyone else.

"I'm just going to the restroom. I saw it over there," Iceland said, pointing to the actual bathroom he saw in the area he was filling Norway to.

Sweden nodded. "Take all the time you need," he said, sitting back down and picking up a newspaper.

Iceland stepped away, slipping into the hallway where the restroom was.

"Norway? Where are you?" he whispered.

"Here," someone whispered back. A little boy- he was still taller than Iceland, though- with blonde hair wearing a school uniform was standing on the staircase in front of him. But he was covering his face with the front of his jacket.

"Come on," Norway said, racing up the steps.

Iceland followed him.


	5. Chapter 5

**But couldn't understand...**

Norway smiled as he looked up and saw Iceland sitting on the floor in front of him.

"What do you want to play?" Norway asked.

"I don't know. What do you want to do?" Iceland asked in response.

"I don't know, either. I've never played a game with another person before. I've been alone for as long as I can remember," Norway said. "I have cards."

Iceland nodded. "Sure. Go Fish?"

Norway nodded with a smile.

 **He said, "Oh, Mary, contrary, how does your garden grow?**

They played five rounds. Norway: 3. Iceland: 2.

The entire time, it seemed like Norway was trying his best to cover his face. the only thing the hood and jacket were not hiding were his eyes. Those beautiful... violet eyes... the ones that made Iceland want to faint. He shook his head to get it out of his mind.

"Is something wrong?" Norway looked up at him curiously. "You keep trying to cover your face."

"I have to hide it," Norway whispered. "I don't have friends, and I don't go to school."

"But the other day-"

"I was going somewhere else."

Iceland nodded in understanding. Without even noticing, he grabbed the Norwegian's hand. Norway looked him right in the eye, clearly showing both fear and excitement. This time, with thinking, Iceland unzipped Norway's jacket. When the younger boy started to freak out and shriek, Iceland pulled off his hood.

Seeing the boy, he narrowly fainted.


	6. Chapter 6

**"Come with me, and you'll be the seventh maid in a row."**

Iceland woke up in his bed. The first thing he wanted to do was check the window to look out and see the garden next door. But it was snowing. There was no way to see out. Iceland could remember, still. He could remember Norway's pale skin, violet eyes like amethyst gems, his beautiful blond hair, and...

Okay, there were some things neither country nor man was meant to discover.

But he was still the most beautiful thing that Iceland has ever seen. Especially those eyes. It was like every time he looked into them, he was trapped in a black hole he couldn't escape from until eye contact was broken.

There was a knock on the door. "Emil? May I come in?"

Iceland sighed. "Sure, Mathias."

 **My answer was laughter, soft as I lowered my head,**

"How dare you let another person anywhere near you?!"

"Father, please-"

"No! You broke the rules that we made to keep you safe!"

"I just-"

"Do you even know how you happened?! A hole in the condom! You were a mistake!"

Finland held Norway close. "Berwald, please-"

Sweden shoved him out of the way. "No, Timo." He turned back to Norway. "Brat!" He picked him up and threw him to the floor. "To your room, and you're not leaving for two days! Go! Go!"

Norway tearfully ran up to his room. Finland grabbed Sweden's shoulder. "He isn't a mistake."

Sweden was silent for a second. "Yes, he is."

"He's the best thing that ever happened to us!"

"He's sick, Timo."

"That doesn't mean you can't love him!"

Sweden gave him the hard stare. Realizing he had lost, Finland sighed and went upstairs to his and Sweden's room.


	7. Chapter 7

**"You're too late, I'm afraid, this flower's already dead."**

"Lukas."

* * *

Iceland marched up to the door of the Oxenstierna-Väinämöinen residence and knocked on it. It slowly opened and revealed that Finland was behind it, hiding the left side of his face. He smiled and pulled Iceland into the house. When Iceland looked at him, there were bandages covering the left side of his face and head. He decided not to ask about it.

"He's upstairs, and Berwald's out getting groceries. But Berwald also took Lukas's jacket..."

Iceland hesitated before nodding and marching upstairs. Opening the door, he saw Norway staring back at him, but he shivered out of fright. It took him a long time to forget the image, and now, it was back.

There were small blossoms of dark pink roses growing on the left side of his face, covering his bangs and left eye, along with being wrapped around his neck. His Nordic cross hairclip, however, remained untouched. Iceland walked over and tried to pick off a bud, hoping it would help. Instead, Norway yelped and stepped back.

"Don't touch it. They keep me alive..."

Iceland stared at him before grabbing his hand. "Come on."

They passed Finland with a wave and walked out the door.

 **Scattering petals down the road without an end...**

Norway sat down at the base of a tree on the top of the hill behind his house. Iceland sat next to him. He smiled but stopped upon noticing Norway's labored breathing. Iceland grabbed his hand. Norway looked him in the eye.

"Father," he said quietly, "weed killer..."

Iceland sobbed and hugged Norway. "No. You can't."

"He made me... drink it..." Norway's head slumped on Iceland's shoulder, but he was still breathing.

"Lukas..."

"Emil, I'm sorry."

"Hold my hand."

Norway lifted his hand slightly, and Iceland grabbed it, slipping his fingers into the spaces in between Norway's.

"Please."

The flowers around Norway's neck began to wilt. Iceland put a hand under Norway's head and kissed him on the mouth. This kiss didn't break, even as Iceland watched the flowers wilting slowly. Soon, the last flower located at the edge of his hairline wilted, and Norway slowly let out a breath and passed silently.

Iceland teared up.

 **Left on the battleground for one I called my friend...**

Denmark sighed. When was Iceland coming back? He stepped out to see him holding Norway like a baby, tearing up as he walked to the house he lived in.

"Emil!"

Iceland kept walking. Denmark just turned back around and went back into the house.

 _I don't even know anymore,_ he thought to himself.


	8. Chapter 8

**Maybe he loved me as he took me by the hand,**

Finland teared up as he held Norway's body. "Lukas, why? Why did you do this? You had the will to live; you shouldn't have died."

Sweden rolled his eyes. "He was a mistake, Timo. Mistakes don't need love."

"You- you selfish bastard!"

"My parents were married-"

"Get out of my house! Don't come back until you start to love your son, you monster!"

Finland pushed Sweden out the door before slamming it in his face and locking it.

 **And tried to understand...**

Denmark knocked on Iceland's bedroom door. "Emil? May I come in?"

Iceland nodded before realizing that his father couldn't see him. "Yes," he said quietly.

Denmark walked in, holding a large plate. "I brought dinner. Lamb and mashed potatoes. Would you like to eat?"

Iceland shook his head. Denmark sat the plate down and joined him on the windowsill. He took his son's hand. "Is something wrong, Emil? You're shaking."

"I'm alright," Iceland replied. A tear escaped from his eye. Denmark looked into the soft blue orbs that belonged to his son.

"What happened?"

Iceland sobbed and began crying into his father's shoulder. "Lukas died," he said. "Norway."

Denmark's eyes widened before he stopped and went back to hugging his son tightly. "I know how you feel."

Iceland sniffed. "You do?"

Denmark sighed, running his fingers through Iceland's hair. "Well, the day was June 17th..."

 **I said, "Oh, Mary, contrary, how does your garden grow?**

 _"Mathias! Mathias!"_

 _Denmark rushed down the steps and grabbed Netherlands' hand. "Baby... coming..."_

 _In a panic, Denmark helped him lay down and took his pants and underwear off of him. "It'll be okay," Denmark said. "One. Two. Three. Push!"_

 _Netherlands did so. "Almost," Denmark said, gripping onto his partner's hand. "Almost- oh!" The baby came out with a soft cry, barely making a noise. Denmark picked it up and wrapped it in a towel. "Our little boy. Hello, Emil. We've been waiting so long for you."_

 _Netherlands let out a breath. "Mathias. Mathias."_

 _Denmark held the newborn Iceland in one arm while he grabbed Netherlands' hand. "Abel. It's over. He's here."_

 _Netherlands nodded. "That... that took too much out of me," he said, clearly out of breath. "I'm... I'm not... going to make it, Mathias."_

 _"Abel. You have to make it. Our son."_

 _Netherlands shook his head before laying it back and letting out a final breath. Denmark started to tear up. "Abel!"_

 **"Stay with me. I can't see anywhere that we could go,"**

"I told everyone about you that night," Denmark said, still petting his son, "but I didn't have the heart to tell them Abel passed away. Instead, I ended up telling them about that when they first met you. When you were about a year old, Timo gave birth to Lukas. And, well... there you go. I also lost someone I loved. And you know what? I still think about him every day. I never fail to go to his grave, Emil."

"Do you ever cry when you see his grave or think about him?"

"Every day, Emil. Every single day." Iceland saw a stray tear fall from his father's eye.

They hugged each other tightly as they stared out the window.


	9. Chapter 9

**Their answer was laughter, as darkness swallowed them up,**

Finland sobbed as Sweden held him. "I'm sorry," Sweden apologized. Finland just picked up his head and started to kiss Sweden.

"It's alright," Finland whispered, putting a hand on his stomach, which contained a three-week-old child within.

 **"One more time, I'll be fine; sometimes kindness is enough."**

Denmark teared up as he continued to speak. "...you'd be so proud of him, Abel. He's grown up so much. He found love and he lost it. He knows what we did and more. You'd be... just... so proud." He let a tear fall from his eye as he ran a single ungloved hand over the inscription:

Abel Pedersøn  
January 30th, 1648 - June 17th, 1944  
Always in our hearts

 **"Oh, Mary, contrary, how does your garden grow?**

"One push!" Sweden shouted. "One more!"

Finland screamed and pushed one final time, and the baby finally came out, wailing. "A little girl."

Finland sighed. "Ingrid."

"I remember that name," Sweden said.

"It's the name I was-"

"-going to give Lukas if he was a girl." They kissed.

 **"Don't leave me! Please don't be the seventh maid in a row!"**

Denmark cried as he stood and left a tulip- Netherlands' favorite- on the base of his grave. "I love you, Abel."

And he walked off.

 **My answer, a whisper, soft as I lowered my head,**

Iceland took a few steps forward and put his hand over the inscription.

Lukas Bondevik  
872 - 2009  
A beautiful flower

He set a pink rose on the grave.

 **"Set them free, I'm sorry. This flower's already dead."**

"Rest in peace, Lukas."

He quickly added, "I love you."

 **THE END**


End file.
